Last One Standing
by Glass Angel1
Summary: An ending action always has to have started somewhere. But can anyone really pin point the moment the rock begins to roll so out of control? Folken is faced with this question as he waits the morning after the end of the Destiny Wars. AV more inside
1. Prologe

_**Last One Standing**_

Hi everyone. This would be a first story in a long time I've posted that is has no co writer. Um weird feelings. Anyways a little bit about this before you start this is an Alternate Universe in which Folken is alive at the end of the war. This Story will also go backwards, this chapter is present time, the following chapters until I note otherwise will be the past. Just so you don't get confused

**Summary: **An ending action always has to have started somewhere. But can anyone really pin point the moment the rock begins to roll so out of control? Folken is faced with this question as he waits the morning after the end of the Destiny Wars. He reflects through past events in his life as he tries to answer that question. An Alternate Universe.

**Disclaimer**: I in no way or form own Vision of Escaflowne, its owned by Bandi or whoever else it says on those papers. SO ya you can't sue me. However I do own all original plot lines and original characters

xXxXx – scene change

xVxVx – same scene different point of view

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Prologue

_New Beginnings _

Outside those light blue curtains there was a world celebrating even into the hours of the rising sun its victory. A victory over all that was wrong and evil, over a tyrant of a ruler that would have only come through the ashes of a destroyed world like a corrupt phoenix. Outside the open doors which lead out onto a glamorous balcony there were people singing songs to their heroes telling their newly past battles as if nothing more horrible could happen. Away from the dark silence, into the light there was joy, happiness but inside those curtains, within those doors hidden by the shadows from the new light of day were two poor souls wondering; wondering their fate that would only come with that rising sun. As the sea breeze gentle blew the blue curtains, allowing the morning sun light to dance into the room, waltzing over the broken glass that covered the hard floor. There was enough light that came through the closed curtains though for one of the two tired souls to look about their surroundings. Sneaking in here during the night had not done well for the room's interior. The broken-into glass display case sat near a lonely oak desk. A long couch over stuffed for its own good faced to single chairs that matched it. None of the seats faced the lone desk; it was as if the poor thing was dis-cluded from the circle around the elegant rug.

He leaned his head back against the over stuffed couch that he had spend the night against. At some point he knew he had been sitting on it, but was the point? The floor felt a lot better, not so over stuffed with lies of comfort. Light blue hair fell over his face as he looked down at his clothing. The black pants and white undershirt unfamiliar, the jacket to this attire was somewhere in this room, probably on the couch. The shirt was unbuttoned down a bit, and the one sleeve rolled up a ways. He only had one sleeve to worry about anyways. Shirts were hard to tailor to cover a metal claw. Maroon eyes looked down at the silver thing to his right that was clasped around a half empty bottle. Whatever it was, he couldn't remember and carried the less. After a while all this stuff tasted the same to him. Empty bottles, as his eyes moved away from his metal arm, littered the elegant rug like ants on a picnic blanket. Had they really had that much? It didn't feel like it.

"How did we end up here?" A voice, tired but awake asked. Maroon eyes left the scattered bottles to the figure that lay stretched out jut a little bit away from the two chairs. The slender but defiant figure seemed to be alien on such an elegant rug. It was beautiful, even in the shadows he could make out the tasteful design the time spent by its crafters to make it. And yet atop it lay a creature who was not worthy of its elegance. Dark velvet hair lay uncontrolled around her. The white tank top and pants clearly soiled of dirt and sweat. Scars graced her tan arms, her face, scars on her outside that only matched his insides. Two pathetic souls who were not worthy of such the grace of an elegant room had ignored its cry for them to leave, only to destroy it, degrading it with their soiled souls. One hand lay on her stomach holding a glass bottle with very little liquid with in, the other along her side. Her knuckles were covered in dried blood, but pieces of glass could still be seen on her empty hand. Gold eyes turned slightly from staring at the ceiling to meet his maroon ones.

"Here?" He asked her back before letting his head fall back tiredly against the couch to look up at the grey colored ceiling. With more light he knew it would be white. Images of the night before played in the back of his foggy mind as he tried to remember what had happen to bring them to degrade such a nice room. "You had said something…. Something about Asturia wine not being enough, needing something stronger to get drunk off your feet." He laughed slightly at the memory of them sneaking out of the grand party that had been thrown in the palace's banquet halls, her annoyed fidgeting about being there as they listened to those 'fools' go on and on about a victory that they didn't even help claim. Her fast yearning to leave had left her to drag him out with her in search of something better to forget it all. They had come upon this unsuspecting room that held a locked liquor case. Glass wasn't a good thing to use for one of those; he would have to remember that after the image of her slamming her fists into it to get her hands on the bottles within. They must have spent the rest of the night getting drunk.

"That's not what I meant, Folken…" She growled at him while sitting up slowly, taking the last bit of the liquor within the bottle in one gulp. Studying the bottle for a moment before throwing it to the side she looked at him. It seemed as if he had the last bit of alcohol left and his companion was far from done. The dark hair woman growled again as she started to crawl alone with floor towards him. The sleeveless shirt she wore, hung loose on her body as she moved towards him on all fours like beast preying on its meal. His eyes left the ceiling to look at her as she came to him. He studied the slick movement of her body as she came at him. The way the small unbound beasts of hers swayed seductively. It was really too big for her to wear. The way the long dark velvet hair caressed her face as it fell back over her shoulders to fall in front. By the gods how he missed this. It had been so long ago, now it just seemed a part of some fantasy, a dream of a dream. After what seemed forever to him she plopped back down next to him, leaning against the couch. Her small, calloused hand took the bottle from his claw to take some of the bitter liquid into her mouth. From here he could see better the defined scars on her exposed collarbone, arms, and the small ones on her face. Scars of a warrior, who had not seen the end of his days. Scars that were shown to the world as trophies with prided of past success, and the horrid shames of failure. Her many scars to his single one. His single tear imprinted on his face as a reminder of his sins to the burning dragon that lay hidden beneath that shirt on her back of her unnatural succession. Two poor souls soiled with this world's greed. What a particular pair they were. "How did we end up like this?"

"Like this?" How did they end up here? Wasn't there some point in their lives that would have said this was impossible? All it was; was a dream. He would wake up any moment and still be there. There in those dark towers of the madoushi in that cruel world or in the capital building being the only advisor to a madman. Better he would wake up to see those red eyes of the young boy turned general staring at him across the table. Those eyes burning eagerly for knowledge, for power only Folken could give him. But, if he dared to wake from this dream, then she would be gone. Gone to a place half a world away raging war where no generation for ages had know the true meaning of peace. She would just slip again away from him in the darkness of his dreams as she had in the past. But this was not a dream; there was nothing that could even possibly make it a dream anymore. She was here now, solid to the touch, her army hanging high above in the sky over the celebrating world waiting their orders; orders that could come from a no longer existing monarchy. They were truly here, alone in this room surrounded by empty bottles pondering the how's and why's to questions they already knew the answer to. Sighing, Folken moved to stand up. It was morning, and they could no longer wait for their fate to come to them. The others would begin to look for them, they're absents would not be over looked for long. "We are likes this, my dear _Jaazar_, because we are two poor fools who could not think of anything better to do with our pathetic existence." He stood tall for a moment, brushing his blue hair out of his face. It was getting to long now; he really did need to get it cut. His first steps were strong, determined as he made his way for the close door on the other side of the single chairs. However, the dizzy spell and the lack of sleep caught up to him quickly halfway across the elegant carpet. It wasn't long before he found himself back down on the floor unable to stand. Folken found himself staring up at the ceiling again as he laid out on the floor. A sniffled laugh behind him was the only sound in the room.

Pathetic.

A callused hand touched the side of his face as she crawled over to him again. Maroon eyes met laughing gold ones as she loomed over him, slender fingers tracing the small tear on his face. What did the world of tomorrow hold for traitors like them? She sighed after a moment and looked away from him to something else.

"I wonder… When did this rock start to roll so out of control, when was the point where there was not turning back on the decisions which lead us here?"

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STOP!

Before you review this story I want you to understand that I will only be excepting constructive criticism only. If you have nothing constructive that pertains to helping me improve this story as I write or anything good to say at all don't review. If you wish to understand my comment more I strongly encourage you to read my bio. Thank You.

R&R, feed the readers


	2. Jaazar

Gomen for the long wait for the first real chapter of this story. Bet you were all like WTF with the first chapter right? Hehe, with the computer breaking, me moving to my apartment, and turning a part time job to a full time has been like… death to my free time the past few weeks. Urge. But I thing I'm finally back into the swing of things. Maybe………

O, and a slight clue to this writing style of this story, I'm trying something new, starting at the end of the story first, then working my way there. So yeah, the prologue is really like… the Epilogue.. um….yeah

Lost yet?

**Summary: **An ending action always has to have started somewhere. But can anyone really pin point the moment the rock begins to roll so out of control? Folken is faced with this question as he waits the morning after the end of the Destiny Wars. He reflects through past events in his life as he tries to answer that question. An Alternate Universe.

**Disclaimer**: I… in no way… own Escaflowne. I'm poor… like really, I just moved, and practically graduated from college. I have student loans, insurance payments, rent… a lot of stuff to pay for.. SO yeah… sue me, and you will probably just get my hand made Dilly doll.

xXxXx – scene change

xVxVx – same scene different point of view

* * *

Chpt 1 _Jaazar_

Gold eyes stared hard into the mirror, as the figure before it slide the small brush through the short locks of dark velvet hair. The room behind the figure was half light, dark in most areas. To the figure's left was a small bed, made neatly, covered in the empty shade of gray. A long sword lay across it, sheathed in a decorative cover. A shorter one, less colorful rested next to it. Gold eyes studied the reflection in the mirror as the figure put down the small brush. Heavy black armor covered the figure's body, holding only a dark shade of purple as the only other color. Not that it was really noticeable in the half light room. Eyes looked hard into the otherwise calm face before the figure let out a long sigh as it stood up. Grabbing the swords of the bed, the figure buckled them onto the belts around its waist. For a moment the figure stood there, looking down at its gloved hands. The door opened, but the figure didn't move its head to see who it was. Gold eyes burning into the black gloves.

"Jaenelle?" She looked away from her hands then to the man at the door. He wore a uniform similar to hers, except the armor plates where a dark grey not the same purple as hers. Dark velvet hair fell over her eyes as she looked at him. There was a thin line of worry on the older man's brow as he studied her for a moment, and then shook his head. "Why did you cut your hair?"

"Zaibach won't take too kindly to a female commander right?" Jaenelle shrugged slightly. The man at the door sighed again and shook his head as he walked into the room. The door slide shut behind him.

"Who told you that?"

"Your face did when you told me I had to come here six months ago." She growled back as she sharply looked away from him to the mirror again to take in her reflection. With short hair now she really did look like a boy. She did take up after her father really, the armor hide what little figure she did have, and with her small breasts bound she now looked the part she hoped to act out today. Two months to get here, two months trapped aboard the small transport to arrive to the country she served blindly. This would be the first time in all fifteen years of her life that she would step foot in this country. Even though the emotions did not show on her fairly tan skin, inside her nervous were making her feel nauseas.

"You are our _Jaazar…_ we care not what Zaibach has to say. After all, you are not the first female _Jaazar_." He laughed slightly as he placed a hand on her shoulder. Gold eyes looked back up at him for a moment, studying the war worn face, skin that was weathered from the years. White hair stood out in the now normal gray mess that was on top his head. He was in need of a shave, but when was he not? Sighing from annoyances she looked down at her open hands before balling them into a fist. "But, the hair cut is a slight improvement."

"You're an ass, Baal. I knew I should have brought Karel." Jaenelle shook her head at him. "Is it time then?"

"O no, my _Jaazar_. You are not scheduled to see the Emperor for another three hours." She frowned at him.

"Scheduled?"

"Things work differently here than they do back in Ishemal. You have a scheduled appointment with the Emperor; you do not just go to him when you get here."

"Bull…Erg…" Jaenelle flopped back down in the chair before the small mirror, running a hand through her now short hair. It felt so different from the long locks, but at the moment she was happy with it. Zaibach was a lot hotter then back home. The armor she wore now didn't help much either. Gold eyes looked down at the small desk before her that held scattered bits of beads and feathers that were once ornaments of her pass victories and strength. A tradition of a race she had adopted in her fifteen years. "Well, since I have THAT long, I might as well put my feathers back in…."

"There is a message for you, however."

"Um?" Gold eyes looked into the mirror to the elder man behind her, as she handpicked up a long back feather adorned in red beads. "From Jajuka? What does my father's spy have for me?"

xXxXxXx

Maroon eyes stared mindlessly through the small beaker as the older woman walked back and forth on the other side of it talking. Her voice moved in a monotone steady pace as she spoke about something he really did not care for. Gray hair was held up off her long black cloak that was a common part of a Madoushi uniform. The older woman's slender hands moved in slow jesters as she spoke, the only thing that made her speaking a little easier to pay attention to, sometimes. The liquid in the beaker was starting to boil. His eyes could see the small bubble starting to form in the clear liquid, the small blue fire dance under it. Gods, why did he have to listen to this woman? A metallic claw tipped impatiently as he continued to look at her. His head rested in his only flesh hand. The right he had lost almost two years ago now to a dragon. A dragon he had failed to slay. Rolling his eyes the young youth continued to watch the woman speaking to him, not really taking in what in Gaea she had to say. Blue hair fell over his eyes slightly when his head fell just a little bit more forward, tempting him to sleep. The woman would probably talk for another hour before noticing anyways. A little nap never hurt. But, then again, Emperor Dornkirk had wanted any and all possible knowledge to be passed onto him. The Emperor older then a few centuries expected great things from him. Listening to this elder Madoushi was supposed to enlighten him Zaibach history. The woman knew more about it then any other madoushi; then again she was the only one who studied historicist to begin with. But, when she had walked in here, the youth was on the middle of an experiment. Dornkirk expected great things from him, and he had yet to produce anything 'great' since he came up with the Stealth Cloaks that were slowly being equipped to the nation's Guymelefs. At the moment he was working on a new weapon to go along with the new cloak, but was finding a hard time working with the liquid metal that he had recently began experimenting on. Weapon's research was a lot better then what some of the other Madoushi did. Maroon eyes watched the small bubble work its way to the top of the liquid before it popped.

"Folken, are you even paying attention to me?" Folken's head snapped up at the annoyed sound of the female madoushi. Her cold brown eyes burned into his as she stopped pacing to look at him, her slender arms hidden under her cloak now that she was no longer speaking. Holding back the want to sigh, the young youth sat up on the small stool he had occupied for the past two hours.

"Madoushi Jayme, I was ju-"

"Wondering the clouds in you head…" She blatantly finished before throwing her hands in the air. He could barely make out the dark black dress she worn under her cloak. Shaking her head, Jayme went back to pacing. _O great, now she's going to lecture me again. _"I can't believe this! It's the third time this week you've failed to listen! To become the Strategoes the Emperor wants you to be boy, you need to know all of this!"

"And what….." Folken sighed finally, and rolled his eyes as he watched her. "Does listening to the past have anything to do with the present?"

Oppies. Not the smartest thing to say to that woman.

"Folken!" She growled angrily at him. "How many times to I have to repeat myself, it is important to-" Maroon eyes narrowed as Folken tuned the woman out. He really needed to work on his people skills. Not that living in these black towers for almost two years helped much. She was pacing again, hands moving in sharp movements, stating loudly her annoyance. Inwardly, he wished she would just leave him in peace; then again, being alone was not something he really wanted. It got him thinking too much. The liquid in front of him was starting to boil more constantly then it had been before. Really, he wanted to get back to his experiment. Science interested him more then history. The large clock that sat in the far part of the room began to chime the third hour, and for once Jayme stopped in the middle of her mind-beating lecture for his 'stupidity'. Turning to look at the clock she shook her head. Gray hair working its way out of the tight bun fell slightly over her face. "Um, is it that time already?"

"Time?" Folken frown at the older madoushi for a moment, finally tuning her back in.

"Hum, I was instructed to have you at the capital building at thirty after third hour. You are to join Emperor Dornkirk in audience to the new _Jaazar_ who arrives today." The older madoushis' voice was in her 'matter-of-fact' tone that she used when she was absolutely annoyed with him. A frown formed on the younger madoushis' face as he looked away from the boiling beaker to the older woman. _Jaazar? _She was looking directly at him, throwing her hands up in more annoyance then she had the first time. "Were you not listening to a single thing I was talking about today Folken?!"

"It's hard to listen when I was in the middle of something when you got here, Jayme." She was rubbing the sides of her forehead as she started to pace. Two years, and the kid still had one hell of an attitude problem. Sure, on one side of the coin he was silent, withdrawn. It was what they had expected to begin with. After all, he had been brought to the towers by the Hunters half alive, well more on the verge of death. The emperor found some coy interest in the pile of flesh and blood; enough interest the madoushi to save the lad's life. At first he hadn't taken to well with the metallic claw, or the fact he was still alive. But the curling twist in Dornkirk's offer became enough to give his new life purpose. A purpose many of the madoushi disagreed heavily on. Strategoes? She could laugh at the sound of calling this boy that. In the five hundred years Dornkirk had lived, there had only been two other Strategoes, men who acted as an extended arm for the confined emperor. Men by the way, not boys. Strategoes had been well rounded in the country's science, history, and military. This young lad got the science part down in less then a few months, he surpassed many of the older madoushi expectation by creating the Stealth Cloak. Now the only thing he lacked interest in was, well everything else. The blue haired madoushi rarely took in anything she said, and she wasn't even going to try imaging the boy drowning out General Abolphis. Still it didn't matter to the emperor. Teach him, he said, show him. If there was one thing right now she wanted to do was teach this boy what happens to people who royally piss of a madoushi.

"I'm going to give you a quick run through so you have SOME idea of what you are going to be standing in on. This way you don't make the Madoushi look like idiots to the _Jaazar_, and you are going to pay attention this time!" He moved his flesh hand to turn off the fire under the beaker, and then sat straight up. She should have made him do that an hour ago. Sighing, Jayme went back to pacing. "When Zaibach first became a united nation four centuries ago, problems in the government economy began to develop. We were dependent on the surrounding countries for a majority of our food supply. Zaibach's rocky land mass made it hard for our people to farm it. We couldn't afford to annex the nations; we didn't have that strong of an army yet to take on all five. The nations all had peace treaties against us to begin with. So, Dornkirk turned away from the surrounding lands to a more suitable solution. The Ishemal continent west of us had no form of united government. It was mostly small tribal nations fighting constantly among themselves. The land however, was our greatest interest. The Iriic clan… remember old Zaibach was built of several individual clans that were constantly fighting…offered to invade the continent to show good faith to the newly reformed Empire. Iriic was a clan with war tendencies; it made up a good part of the Zaibach army. Dornkirk approved it, and with in weeks the Iriic clan was moving across the seas to invade. They have continued their invasion since that time that is why most of Zaibach's economy is so well off even though we have broadened our nation boards here by conquering the nations that once surrounded us.

"Now that you have most of the historic out line, the Iriic clan leader is called the _Jaazar._ When the _Jaazar_ dies one child of his line takes up the control of the clan, the child is normally the oldest who has trained from a very young age to be a successor. _Jaazar_s tend to die young. The oldest recorded was thirty-nine, and that was the last one who died eight years ago. _Jaazar _Hawks, I think was his name; successor has yet to be seen. Having taken over in the middle of the campaign Dornkirk had not requested to meet the new _Jaazar_. The campaign finally ended half a year ago, and the new _Jaazar _has agreed to comply in returning to Zaibach." Stopping for a moment she looked back at the young lad to make sure he was paying attention to her. His maroon eyes were focused on nothing but her at the moment. Why couldn't he listen all the time instead of when it's important for his necessary future? She looked away to the clock again. "We need to be leaving now…"

"Thank you, Madoushi Jayme for your time…" Folken stood quickly knowing that being late was not an option. The dark cloak danced back around to cover his metallic arm.

"O Folken…" The older woman called after him before he made it out of the door into the dark halls. "Make sure you address the _Jaazar_ as _Jaazar. _Use of his name is a sign of disrespect."

xXxXxXx

Folken stood out to the sides in the shadows, not that far from Emperor Dornkirk. The elderly man sat in heavily equipped wheel chair looking thing, staring uninterested at the door to the far side of the room. People should not live that long, inwardly the blue haired male sighed as he watched the man. There was another person in the room, a middle aged female, Folken knew her name started with a 'Y' but it was such a weird name he never could seem to remember how to pronounce it. The woman was the Emperor's aid, one of the five he had. This dark green haired aid, however, was in charge of the emperor when he was removed from the larger machine that kept him alive. No one should live five hundred plus years, it was unnatural. But the fact that he had would make anyone grow interested. No one should live that long, but everyone dreams of immorality. The dark cloak Folken wore fluttered slightly when the door opened. He jerked his maroon eyes away from the white haired, wrinkled old man to the open door as two figures walked in. The first was a tall man, built well in the ways of war. Grey hair covered the majority of his head, but he was starting to show the signs of hair loss. White was mixed in; he also wore a small beard that covered most of his weather worn face. Grey and black armor blended in with the dark room. There was only light in the middle were the Emperor was. A long sword was strapped to his left side. Since when did people come in here armed? A frown formed slightly on Folken's face as he looked to the smaller lad that was behind the older man. Dark hair was cut short, in uneven locks. Feathers, and brightly colored beads were wrapped around certain locks; most fell to the right side of his face. Bright colored gold eyes burned down straight to the figures before him. Determination was clear in those eyes, as he walked into the light Folken could see his uniform held a dark purple color along with his hair. Two swords adored his sides, the one on the left smaller then the one on the right. Certainly the older one was the _Jazzar_, this lad looked no older then him. The two stopped not a few feet from Emperor Dornkirk. Neither moved to knee before him as Folken seen most who enter this room do.

"Baal…." Dornkirk's rasp voice said after a moment as he looked at the elder man closes to him. The grey haired man lifted his right hand, holding it in a fist, and crossed it over his chest.

"It is my pleasure to come before you again, my Emperor." The grey hair man said as he held his head downward.

"Yes… It is a rarity I see those who come here more then twice." Dornkirk responded in a smooth tone, but then a frown seemed to form, if that was possible for such a wrinkled face. "However, normal it is the Second who accompanies your _Jazzar."_

"My Second is not an Iriic." Folken's maroon eyes jerked away from the older man to the silent lad. That voice! It wasn't a boy who stood behind the older man, it was girl! The voice was too smooth, too light and too even to belong to a male. After working with so many madoushi women who could pass off as male's, in two years Folken was able to learn the difference in the voice patterns of the two sexes. She took a step forward so that she was no longer behind the older soldier. Her strides were long and even as she came before the emperor. Kneeing down on one knee, she kept her gold eyes on Dornkirk's face. "My Emperor."

"A, Hawk's first child did die then?" Dornkirk seemed to laugh slightly at something as he studied the girl before him.

"My brother did not prove to be the right successor, Emperor. Ashura-o burns strongest in me." The _Jaazar_ bowed her head slightly, gold eyes however not once leaving the face of the older man. To any other lord Folken had and would ever met an act of this would be called disrespect and bring any who dared it disgrace. "Forgive me my Emperor for not answering your calling for these past eight years. I could not pull myself away from the invasion of the Yahka territory. I come though bringing you great news of the victories of my people,-"

xXxXxXx

She hated this place, from the moment she stepped off the transport, she hated it. The smell of gas and smoke in the air, to the dead steel buildings, she hated it all. It reeked of a place she would never let Ishemal become no matter what that man wanted. To only have green grass and trees grow inside buildings? What had Zaibach became since he came here offering a way of life? Her ancestors were the only ones it seemed who had the right ideals in mind for this planet. The artificial breeze of some air conditioner blew the feathers that hung from her hair around a bit, the short locks of dark purple fell into her eyes. Behind her was the balcony she had to climb up out of to stand on this inside garden. It lead back into the small quarters she would be occupying during the duration of her stay, a prison cell with a table, closet and a single bed. She absolutely hated this place, no wonder her ancestors hated coming here.

Sighing, golden eyes looked about her surroundings. Several rooms like the one she occupied circled around this place. Everything here seemed so over organized there was an urge to rip the flowers from their beds and cut down some trees with her katana just to create some 'natural' appeal to this place. She gripped her hands into small fist wishing she wasn't wearing the damn uniform she was in. It felt just as suffocating as this place. Sobs distorted her thoughts as her golden eyes where drown to a small blond child under the largest tree that was in the center of this place. The little child sat with her hands curled into the small blue medical gown it wore, shaking as if was trying to keep from crying. Blond locks fell in small curls around its face, locks uneven as if they had been cut by a knife. With no interest for the crying child, she turned back to her prison cell with the slight desire for sleep before her meeting with the head generals. She snorted as she thought about it…scheduled meetings, whoever heard of such an annoying thing? It prolonged her stay here longer then necessary. However, sleep would not be for her. Standing in her balcony with loyal eyes only a Dogman could have dressed in a semi-looking uniform of the madoushi except for it was tan, was her father's faithful spy.. Well, at least some people understand the means of getting things done quickly without 'scheduled meetings'.

"I'm sorry for disturbing you, Lady _Jaazar_…" The tan Dogman said softly to her. Jeanella just knelt down slightly so that she was eye level with him. Had he been standing on the grassy plain with her, he would be three heads taller. Damn, she hated being so short.

"Disturb? Ha! I'm bored out of my mind…. Jajuka, it is right?" Golden eyes looked over the modestly dressed Dogman. "I've kept up with most of your reports these past few years. There was something you wanted to discuss?"

"Someone, _Jaazar…" _Jajuka said with some sadness. Jeanella did not move from her stop where she sat crouched on the grass staring unmoved into those soft blue eyes. She listened to him, the stories of what she had already read herself. Things of the dark, deep secrets that should only be for scaring bad children, not practices in such a world. He spoke of experiments preformed on inconsiderable things, tortures of the body and mind. Things done to a small child, which left more confusion then anything else. A girl who had a boy's individual personality developed that was then which taken out and put into a separate body. A boy the Madioushi claim will become a better warlord then the past _Jaazar_s all together. When he was done, Jaenella stood up to stretch out her legs. Ruffling the feathers in her hair a bit she looked about the metal buildings around her. This was a dark place, no wonder her ancestors wanted to leave it behind. She turned her back to him to look at the little child sitting under the tree. She seemed to have stopped her crying finally.

"Where is this…..project now?" Golden eyes looked over her shoulder at the Dogman, who seemed to be wanting to go across the grass to the little girl.

"They… took him two days ago, just before your arrival, to Tomashima for extensive strategy training." There was a silence for a moment before something touched the back of her leg. "_Jaazar _I beg of you, they plan to kill_-"_

"So, they are afraid of what I may do then?" The hand dropped from her leg.

"….The Madoushi want him loyal only to them, _Jaazar_. I fear there is a plot against the Iriic…"Tossing a long black feather with red beads about it, Jaenella laughed lightly as she took strides towards the little girl under the tree. "_Jaazar? _I do think you must-"

"I have been the _Jaazar _since I was eight, Jajuka, this is not the first plan of overthrow I've had to over come…." She took long determined strides towards the little girl, face stone cold as she stopped only a few steps from her. It took the little platinum blond to realize someone was there; tearful purplish blue eyes looked up at her. They slowly moved over her uniform before they stared into golden eyes. The little girl tried to suppress her tears, hold a cold face just like the one she was looking at but could not. The tears still made it down her small face.

"W-what do you w-want?" Anger, the little girl had a lot of anger in her voice, even with tears. Inside, Jaenella could smile, outside she kept the cold face as she looked down at her head held high.

"Why do you cry?" The little girl growled at her as she stood up, there was a small black rope tied around her waist as if to make a small belt.

"Because they lied! They told me if I came they would make me strong! They said women could be soldiers too, I could be better soldier then _he_ could ever be! They lied to me! All they wanted was my mind to create something, and then they took him away and laughed at me when I said I wanted to go too. I wanted to be a soldier like him, strong like him." Her little hands balled up into tight fists as she shouted at her, the tears no longer running down the sides of her face. "They said women make horrible soldiers!"

"Women make better soldiers then most…." Jaenella cocked her head to the side. Purplish blue eyes looked at her surprised for a moment before the anger returned, stronger this time.

"You lie! You lie just like the fat bastard did!" The girl took several steps forward quickly, her left hand pulled something out from behind her as she ran forward to strake the soldier that stood before her.

"Celena!" Jajuka's voice called out some several paces away from them, to far away to stop the little girl from striking. Jaenella grabbed Celena's left hand, hard, making her yip in pain. With a quick knee to the chest the girl fell to her back, the small sharp blade that had been in her left hand flew across the grass. The little girl coughed trying to get her breath back, rolled to her side. Pathetic… it would take a lot for this girl to make the expectation of the mistress of Salacis.() She crouched down so if the girl stood up again they would be eye level. Celena rolled onto her back and sat up glaring at her with hatred.

"How do you know I lie, little girl?" Taking a hard hold of her left hand again, Jaenella pull the girl towards her. Undoing the top clips of her jacket with her free hand, she held the little girl firmly as she tried to squirm out of her hold. Pulling the hand hard, she shoved it inside the heavy plated jacket against the wrapped chest beneath. Little purplish blue stared at where her hand was before looking back into firm golden eyes.

"Y-you're a-"

"Gender has nothing to do with who makes the better soldier. It is one's will…" She dropped the little hand, purplish blue eyes stared down at her own hand in disbelieve. "Tell me Celena, what would you do to become strong?"

"Anything, I want to prove them all wrong." Her eyes looked strongly into the woman before her eyes.

"Can you follow me to hell itself?"

"To prove I can be better then _him._ To show them I could be a good as Dilandau.." Celena bowed her head down for a moment before she looked back up at her. "I would follow you through hell's wrath and back." Jaenella smiled at that before she turned her back to the little girl and began to walk back the way she came. As she came up to walk past Jajuka, there was a shuffle of feet in the grass behind her.

"My I ask, who you are, Lady?" The little girl's voice asked a strong willed presence behind it. The smile still graced her lips at that. Maybe there was hope for her. Golden eyes looked behind her at the small child.

"A warlord…" She looked forward against as she walked back to her prison of a room. "The _Jaazar…"_

* * *

() Salacis – Latin for Lust (ful)

R and r please. Feed the poor writer.


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